


The Epilogue

by CallousHeartz



Series: How Time Decides [11]
Category: Danger Days: The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys (Album), My Chemical Romance, The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys (Comic)
Genre: M/M, Retrospective, Throwing Sand, some things never change
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-24
Updated: 2019-03-24
Packaged: 2019-12-06 22:42:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18226382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CallousHeartz/pseuds/CallousHeartz
Summary: on this day, exactly two years ago...





	The Epilogue

On this day exactly two years ago, if someone had asked Ghoul to pick one person in the world to lie next to on the bonnet of a car under the midday sun, a certain guy with carmine-coloured hair and a tight black leather jacket would be, without a shred of doubt, the last person to cross his mind. 

Because (on this day, exactly two years ago) he'd been in the very same place - sitting on the bonnet of an old trans am, back resting on the windscreen with the afternoon sun beating down on his skin and the metal scorching under the fabric of his clothes. 

"Sometimes I wonder when my alarm's gonna go off," Ghoul struggles to keep his eyelids from falling as he reflects, "and I'll be back between my fuckin' clean bed sheets over in Battery, 'bout to get up and head out the house with my tie on so later I can lie to my mum and say I been in school all day,"

With a short, dry laugh, he stretches, folding his arms behind his head,

"I don't miss that shit, though," He continues, "That life was never meant for me,"

For a moment, nothing else is said - a light breeze is drifting over, and rare luxuries like that should be paid undivided attention. The silence breaks as soon as the sticky afternoon warmth settles over the car again.

In roughly five minutes, (on this day, two years ago) his moment of peace would be cut short by a swift uppercut to the jaw and a cold demand for his name - in no time at all he'd be making his first enemy (aside from Better Living and all its affiliated motherfuckers, but that goes without saying.)

"That life was never meant for anyone," Poison mutters, "And one by one, those poor fuckers still pullin' through it are gonna wake up and follow our lead. Swear to the Witch,"  
A particularly bitter scowl clouds his face - that always happens when city memories hit him.

It's way too hot to be lying this close together, and they both know it.  
But it's also too hot to find the energy move, and besides, as Poison's hand edges closer to Ghoul's, curling their pinky fingers together in a loose hold, they both realise they don't _want_ to move.

On this day, exactly two years ago, Ghoul had a list running through his brain, back and forth at a constant rate. It's the list which comes free with starting a new life in the zones, and it's sure as hell got a lot of things on it.

Falling in love isn't one of those things; never really had been. 

Not until recently. 

Ghoul's been thinking a lot about falling in love recently. You tend to think a lot about things when they start playing into your everyday life - that rule applies pretty often out here, as Ghoul's figured out with time.

Time has a habit of messing things around and making you think about stuff you hadn't before. _Care_ about stuff you hadn't before.

It really is warm out here. That always hits you when you've been lying in the same spot for a while, and it seems Poison's feeling the impact. Both his arms are bound tightly around one of Ghoul's with his long fingers snaked around his bicep, pressing it close to his body so that Ghoul can feel the steady rise and fall of his diaphragm as he breathes - he isn't sure whether or not he's fully asleep, but if he is, he'll have to wake him up sooner or later. He kind of wants to head indoors to cool off. 

_This is why you don't wear black leather in the heat,_  
Ghoul thinks, shaking his head and sighing softly through a crooked smile as his eyes rest on Poison's face: his long hair's tied back as tight as he can manage yet vibrant strands still stick to his flushed cheeks here and there, his chapped lips are parted ever so slightly and all the sweat’s left his dark eye makeup as nothing more than faint smudges lingering below his lashline.

"You awake?" Ghoul murmurs, reaching forward and poking the tip of his nose. Poison scrunches up his nose and lets out a soft, disgruntled groan. Ghoul can’t help but laugh. There's this feeling he gets when Poison's around: this molten warmth which pools behind his ribs and seeps up along the back of his throat. It doesn't take long to get attached to a sensation like that, to build yourself a home in it without even realising.

Ghoul's starting to drift off himself when he hears faint rustling to his left, and feels Poison sit up.

 _Typical,_ he thinks. He watches Poison slip seamlessly off the roof, landing with both feet in the sand, before he follows suit. 

Ghoul's landing isn't quite so smooth - he swears harshly when the dusty ground grazes the exposed skin of his knees. 

Poison snorts, smirking. He extends a hand to Ghoul, who flips him off with a playful smile as he takes it and stands himself up, brushing his jeans down.

"I think it was this exact spot," Ghoul remarks, "Where we first met,"

"Nah," Poison shakes his head, tucking a strip of hair behind his ear, "I feel like it was more 'round the front,"

Ghoul walks around to the front of the car.  
"Like here?"

That classic, prideful smile plays on Poison's lips as he strides over.  
"Exactly."

"Wow," Ghoul laughs - not at the memory exactly, but at the contrast between now and then. Because it's wild. It's wild and it's fucking ridiculous, and he loves it.  
He shakes his head.

"Poison, how the hell did we get here?"

Poison strolls closer and Ghoul takes both of his hands in his own. Their calloused, clammy fingers intertwine as Poison replies,

"I ask myself the same question,"

As his pale, icy eyes meet Ghoul's - bold and dark and filled with fire - Poison realises they've never changed. What _has_ changed is the way he feels about the fire in Ghoul's eyes, and the way Ghoul feels about the ice in his.

When Ghoul speaks again, he's got that contemplating look on his face.

"Damn," He says, "I still can't believe I headbutted you in the teeth,"

"Pfft, that’s what ya call a headbutt? Barely felt it," Poison scoffs, and Ghoul laughs, rolling his eyes.

"Sure, sure, whatever. But anyway," The backs of his fingers run along the rise of Poison's cheekbone, "This is my super belated apology,"

He plants a kiss on Poison's top lip, and another just above. With a breathy laugh, Poison cups his cheek.

"And this," He murmurs against the corner of Ghoul's mouth, "Is _my_ belated apology for shovin' you off the car in the first place,"

He kisses him slowly, hands roaming up Ghoul's arms and settling on his shoulders. Smiling against eachother's lips, they stumble into the car.

"Thank the Witch you pushed me off this damn car," Ghoul mumbles, mouth still lingering over Poison's. Side by side, the pair perch on the bonnet again, legs pressed against eachother. 

“‘Cause if you hadn’t,” Ghoul dips his head to kiss Poison's neck, just an inch or so from the apex of his jaw, before resting his cheek on his shoulder,  
“We might’ve never met.”

Poison's shoulders aren't exactly comfy, but he doesn't mind. Just being next to him is comfy enough, he thinks as Poison pecks his browbone and wraps an arm around his back.

"Oi, lovebirds!"  
Kobra grins as he walks out of the diner. He's got freshly bleached hair and a freshly pierced septum, both of which he's been immensely proud of in the past week. The new piercing, alongside an absolute chaotic mess of a party which left everyone with a pounding headache for some reason or other, was how he chose to celebrate his milestone birthday - not that turning 18 makes any difference out here. Who the fuck knows what adulthood's supposed to be outside the city walls?

"Oh, great, look who it is," Ghoul teases, "What d'you want now, Snake Shit?"

"Nofin’ much," Kobra replies, “Just came t’disrupt ya.”

Ghoul laughs and punches Kobra’s arm as he sits on his other side.

”Hey! Y’all are having a cute little gang gathering without me?” 

Jet strolls up, grinning as he wipes his hands on his jeans. Clearly, he’s been working on something - as usual. He pounces on the other guys, grabbing Ghoul in a loose headlock and ruffling the rest of whatever’s on his hands into his already greasy hair - oil, it smells like. 

“Fuck you!” Ghoul splutters, gasping with laughter as he shoves Jet’s strong form away. He bends down, scooping up a handful of sand, and, without a second’s hesitation, hurls it at Jet, hitting him in the shoulder. Jet’s eyes widen,

“You shit!” He yells. As Ghoul starts to run off, cackling away, he sprints after him. Ghoul stops in his tracks before he can collide headfirst with a cactus, only to be tackled into the sand by Kobra. Before Ghoul has the chance to open his mouth, Jet kicks a cloud of sand over both of them. The shit-eating grin’s wiped off Jet’s face as Poison attacks him from behind with a noise akin to a battle cry, shoving him to the ground.

The four of them lie there for a while, sprawled over one another and laughing breathlessly, before Kobra sits up and aims a handful of sand at Ghoul’s face - then they’re up and running again, Kobra screeching like a bird with Ghoul on his heels.

They end up back by the trans am soon enough, and it seems Jet and Poison have caught up with them somewhere along the way.

“It’s too hot for this,” Jet groans, sinking to the floor.

“ _I’m_ too hot for this,” Poison tosses his head and smirks. Jet rolls his eyes.

Ghoul chuckles as he walks over, still catching his breath, and slips his arms around Poison’s waist from behind, pulling him against his front. Poison’s eyes close as Ghoul buries his face in the crook of his neck, the cool metal chain of his necklace brushing his bottom lip - he can taste the sweat as he kisses his skin, and it’s the taste of home.

Because this right here is Ghoul’s reality, and it’ll be his reality until the Witch herself decides otherwise.

Zone life is chaos. You'll never know what to expect - you'll never know what you're about to embark on. What path you're about to take, where you'll end up or who you'll meet, who you'll love and who you'll loathe and who you'll despise at first then grow to adore with every last fragment of your blistered soul.

And it's not all up to you.  
It's not all up to you, or the others, or the desert itself. It's not up to the footprints you leave in the sand or the colours you leave on the walls or the ten thousand variations of "fuck the system" you leave hanging in the air.

When it comes down to it, there's one overseer in the desert.  
An overseer which may be found behind the hands of a clock, and may be watched as every night falls and every dawn creeps around, but can never quite be caught.

Maybe you'll never truly understand how time decides some things are meant to go, but you'll feel its choices in everything you do.

_On this day exactly two years ago, two spirits collided: one of livid fire, and another of the coldest ice._


End file.
